Moonlight Sonata
by Auron's Moira
Summary: Just a random thought...what would happen if you realized you were living next door to Auron? R&R please...


A/N: Just a random thought...what would Auron look like playing the piano...and only one song came to mind. R&R please...

Moonlight Sonata

She heard the familiar notes coming from the apartment next door. Moonlight Sonata. She stopped what she was doing every time she heard him play it; just paused, waiting and listening. He sometimes played it with a vibrant intensity and others with a sad softness that brought tears to her eyes. She could gauge his mood by the way the notes sounded and knew whether it was a good day to speak to him or stay out of his way.

She had seen him several times in the building, getting mail, carrying groceries or once even doing laundry. Doing her laundry in public was often a little embarrassing for her; she was always glad when she had the room to herself. It was that way the first time she met him. She had entered the room in the early morning and breathed a sigh of relief finding it empty. She had barely loaded the machine when the door opened and a man entered. He was tall, well over six feet. His hair was dark, black as shadow with silver streaks at the temples; these did not age him, but added to his attraction. His body was well built, hard muscle strained against the black t-shirt he sported, strong arms holding his laundry basket. He wore a pair of dark glasses that seemed to serve no purpose other than to hide a scar that ran down one eye, his right eye remained closed. She didn't mind the scar at all, as she had several herself, just not on her face; not to sound over-dramatic, but most of her scars were internal.

She felt a strange pull towards him, feeling there was something otherworldly about him but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. But just the sight of this man brought out a strange passion and she was secretly glad there was a row of appliances between them. He didn't say anything, he just looked over at her and raised his head in her direction, a strange simplistic greeting and then continued with his work. He was humming softly to himself as he loaded his clothes into the machine and she recognized the song and realized that he lived next door to her. Armed with these perfect ice breakers she opened her mouth to speak and she faced him, but one look into his deep brown eyes caused her tongue to swell and she barely croaked out "Good morning". Once again, he only nodded in her direction. No names were exchanged.

A few months later, she was passing by his apartment she heard him playing the song. He'd played others but this was obviously his favourite. She stopped just outside his door, which was open, just a crack, and naturally she peered inside. He was seated at the piano with his back to the door. She watched as he coaxed the melody out of the instrument, his strong arms moving fluidly with the rhythm, his agile fingers flowing over the keys, his back flexing and arching in time with the tempo changes, his head moving along in time with the music. His eyes were no doubt closed, lost in the melody.

She stood staring, completely transfixed by the sight and she failed to notice the bag she was carrying was slipping from her grip. The bag broke, spilling its contents all over the hallway. The noise of the crash interrupted his playing; she watched as he turned abruptly in his seat and fixed her with a stare that gave her goose bumps. She looked away and turned her eyes to the floor, just in time to see one of the oranges she bought roll into his apartment. Feeling completely foolish she bent down to gather her things and hadn't noticed that he had crossed the room and was now standing in the doorway, holding an orange. She gasped to find him so close to her and stood up, almost losing her grip on her things as she did. In one swift movement, he placed the orange on the top of the pile in her arms, then wrapped his own arms around the bundle and took it from her. She stood there, just staring at him. When he spoke his voice was low but powerful and she felt a fresh crop of goose bumps crop up.

"Are we to stand here all day or are you going to show me which apartment is yours?"

"Oh! I'm sorry!" she exclaimed while turning to walk down the hall to the next door. She fumbled with her keys for a moment, then finally managing to unlock it, flung the door open, and stood to one side to let him pass. "Here we are," she stuttered, "kitchen's through here."

He walked smoothly into her kitchen and deposited her groceries on the counter.

"There you are," he said.

"Thank you! Thanks a lot...umm..." she paused, hoping he would offer his name. He did not.

"You're welcome."

_Offer him a drink! A snack! A seven course meal! Anything! Just get him to stay!_

"Umm...would you umm...like a drink or something?" she faltered.

"No thank you..." he broke off, using the silent 'what's your name' technique she had just tried on him.

"Monique, Monique Davis," she offered enthusiastically.

"No thank you, Monique," he said.

_Oh man! The way he says your name!!!! Too sensual!_

"Oh," she replied, not bothering to hide her disappointment. She moved over to the counter and started putting things away; anything was better than standing there staring at him. She hit the button on her CD player as she passed it, unaware of what song was cued up. The familiar notes of Moonlight Sonata filled the kitchen.

_Oh shit! Of all the songs I own, THAT'S the one that plays! Shit! Now he probably thinks I'm some kind of creepy stalker or something. He's gonna think I did that on purpose!_

"Hmm...I love Beethoven," he said softly, his voice practically growling over his 'hmm'. She shivered.

"Oh, so do I! Isn't that strange...isn't this the song you were playing before I interrupted you?"

_Oh yeah! That didn't sound lame at all! Spaz!_

"Yes, it's one of my favourites," he whispered. She still had her back to him, unaware that he had slowly closed the gap between them. Suddenly she felt his breath on the back of her neck. She gripped the counter for a moment to steady herself, then turned to find herself mere inches from him; so close she could breathe in his scent and feel the heat off of his body. Her mind raced as she let her eyes rove over him, unsure where to look. She finally chose his eye and stared into its silken brown depths. He stared back, then almost imperceptibly flicked his gaze down to her lips and back to her eyes. She shuddered but remained still.

_Kiss him you idiot! He wants it...just do it! Don't just stand there staring at him!_

She didn't have to do anything. Slowly he leaned in and before she could say 'holy shit' his lips were gently pressed against hers. She gasped into his mouth and almost forgot to kiss him back. Softly and gently he explored her mouth with his tongue as his hands found their way into her hair. She hesitantly placed one hand on his strong chest and lost herself in the kiss, sighing softly. Reluctantly they parted.

"I've wanted to do that for months," he said in a whisper, his face still mere inches from hers.

"Me too," she replied weakly, suddenly feeling completely overwhelmed by his closeness. He wasn't moving, just standing over her, absently stroking her face with a fingertip.

Without warning, he pulled her to him. They were almost the same height so she felt every inch of his body pressing into hers.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured before claiming her mouth again. She whimpered.

_Oh for the love of all the gods! What the hell is happening?? Do something before her thinks you're frigid or something!_

Her mind screamed at her to respond and she eventually found the power to do so. Months of pent up frustrations flowed out as she returned his kiss with a passion that surprised him. He broke the kiss, a little out of breath.

"Bedroom?"

"Yeah, I got one."

He laughed, a deep resonating sound that rushed through her.

"Which way is it?"

_Dumbass!_

"This way," she said taking him by the hand.

Several hours later her mind was a complete blank as she woke. She was momentarily confused as to why she was lying in her bed, naked, in the middle of the day, but the memories came flooding back to her. She rolled onto her side, expecting to see her handsome neighbour-turned-lover but found only empty space. A single red rose, so dark it almost appeared black, and an envelope on her pillow. She held the flower to her nose and breathed in the heady aroma then opened the envelope. There was a heavy red wax seal on the back and the paper inside almost looked like a piece of parchment. Written on the paper, in a script that she had never seen outside mediaeval books or movies was a single phrase.

My name is Auron.


End file.
